A Study In Originality

Ohmygod, if I see one more pair of Wayfarer-inspired sunglasses I am totally going to puke. I really have nothing against this style, but after having to look at the nine billionth person wearing them, they have gotten really annoying. I mean, the Wayfarer has always been a classic shape, and it's not any better looking than it was two years ago, but people are latching onto them now like they have never before been available. And FIY honey, they're pinching your nose, so they don't fit.

Secondly, don't wear a blousy linen tank top as a dress and belt it with a star and moon themed belt. Also, don't add a really tailored blue leather bag that is meant to go with less casual and summery outfits. Thirdly, don't be such a trendy douche.

We Miss You, Courtney

I was born just a few years too late to appreciate the grunge/indie rock/riot grrrl explosion of the late early 90's. While kids a few years older were crying over Kurt and sneaking off to Bikini Kill concerts and stapling their own zines (inspired, partially, by the late great Sassy magazine), I was listening to the Cats soundtrack and, I don't know, pouring over the pages of Seventeen. And there wasn't really a whole lot on the horizon- except for Courtney Love. She may have been a dimming star at that point, but her image was endlessly fascinating to me, if a little scary, and she still showed up in teen mags, (notably in this "On Tour With Hole" feature, in which she wore fairy wings and part of a "red majorette costume from Goodwill"- I thought this was amazing.) When the most subversive looking female to be found was the far more polished (and boring, and, now that I think about it, rather "cyber" influenced) Shirley Manson, Courtney's picture would still show up from time to time, snarling in a ripped vintage dress, in all her peroxided glory, looking fierce and inspirational and different.

The image above was in a Seventeen when I was in middle school, in a section about how to dress like Courtney Love. There's not that much I can say I still find cool that I did in middle school, but old photos of Hole will forever fall into that category. I mean, she is wearing black eyeliner, red lipstick and a torn 1940's dress- a look I am still ripping off to this day! Courtney's "kinderwhore" look was an amalgamation of old and new, trashy and sweet, punk and princessy, and it worked really, really well. You could be girly and tough and play guitar and say fuck you while wearing a peter pan collar and baby barrettes all at the same time. I still sort of want a fur coat like the one she wore in the liner notes of the perennial classic Live Through This (the cover of which, looking back on it, is also totally amazing.)


So, instead of thinking about the modern version of Courtney, let's think about her, many nose jobs ago, when she was outspoken and unique and an awesome role model/style icon, who really didn't look like anyone else, and, hopefully, inspired twelve-year-olds everywhere.

More Bland Ugly from American Apparel

Not that I want to rant about American Apparel again or anything, but I fucking hate American Apparel. It's really hard to not go into the rant about Dov Chaney/ overpriced crap/ offensive advertisements/ slavish hipster following, but somehow I'll resist. And I'll simply say, My, is this t-shirt ugly! The sweetheart neckline is one that is meant to be fitted into a tight bodice, not drooping around one's chest like so many sacks. Aside from that, it doesn't need to be added to a t-shirt in the first place. The beauty of a neckline is that it actually touches your neck, thus framing your face, not creating some sort of double necklined- monster.

It reminds me of those faux-vests that had fronts but no backs that that were attached to t-shirts when I was a child. Does anyone remember those? When I was a kid I was sitting around with an oversized t-shirt tucked into my leggings and I still knew those were tacky.

A Tyrade Against Lady Chocolate: Drunken Ramblings

Dear Gentle Readers,
Since no one reads my blog except my friends, and since I have been urged by them to do a blog against Lady Chocolate, whose name I have since figured out is actually Miss Chocolate, aka The Door Person at Trannyshack, (who we have a vendetta against already because Simone got angry at one night in 2004 or something when we tried to get into "Miss Trannyshack 2004" at someplace downtown and our names weren't on the list even though we paid, and Simone ranted about that "ugly tranny who had Botox and facial surgery" who wouldn't let us in and instead we went to the Tonga Room, which is also downtown, and got wasted and danced to Crazy in Love by Beyonce), and who also [Miss Chocolate, not Beyonce] we are apparently supposed to tip (whatever) even though we payed her $8 admission get into Trannyshack, which is a rip-off since tonight, though we were technically were able to get in, we couldn't move/get a drink/see the performance which Simone said was just a tranny who looked like Janeane Garafolo, and it was very lucky I was already drunk/had bought that bottle of Jack Daniels at that liquor store next to Zante Pizza which we drank in line while we waited for the too-crowded event), and despite the fact that we( meaning me) have been a David Bowie devotee since we were sixteen and we're now 23 and we're supped to finally go Trannyshack and live out or adolescent dreams, we had been waiting in line over for an hour with no hopes of getting befpre the show started.

Luckily, when we finally got out of the very hot and cramped environment of the oversold and so over-crowded Trannyshack wherein some guy with a mohawk tried to grab me by my hand and lead me to the stage but just gave up, a very nice tranny whose named we never caught accompanied us to the Shell Station because, as she said, "they didn't like big girls" and bought Jen a dark chocolate Snickers bar while I bought a diet Lime Coke even though I didn't really want to, and talked to us about Midnight Mass and, though I proclaimed that I hated Lady [whose name is actually Miss] Chocolate very loudly, told me to not to say such terrible things about Trannyshack.

In conclusion, Trannyshack is a fire hazard and Miss Chocolate is a bitch, but Trannyshack attracts some very nice ladies, including many who complimented me on my silver 60's dress, and I hope to attend it sometime when it isn't so busy. Shout-outs to The Sco/trannies/The Twin Peaks, aka Glass Coffin, aka The Best Gay Bar in the 415, which is saying something.

PS: I was going to find a photo of Lady Chocolate and out an X through her face, but it took too long. It would have been pretty funny though!

Where Are My Idaho Russets?

Look, we've all felt the allure of the sack dress at times: it's comfortable, it's easy to wear, and can sometimes be pulled off in a 60's-ish way (rarely, but whatever.) But here's a good reason not to wear a sack dress, particularly in thin, drapey knit fabric, the color of which I could only describe as "pumpkin": it makes you look like a sack too! Look at this lady! She is probably like a size two or something and she is bulging out all over the place. There's nothing wrong with wearing something that makes you look a little fatter, but you should never, ever wear something that makes you look as if you've been stuffed with whole potatoes.

Usually, I decry the random belt, but this shapeless mess could probably use one.

Return of the Ugly Shorts, Part III: The Bulge of Doom

Those high-waisted Topshop shorts I've already mentioned twice in this blog have made another appearance on some street style blog, once again over-accessorized with some kicky nautical pieces. These shorts are perfect when you want your bottom half to look like a rectangular block, with a bit of a crotch bulge to add pizazz.

And sorry to be a traditionalist, but shorts are for bare legs, when it's hot out, not to be worn with a pointless scarf, black tights, white Keds (actually, don't wear white Keds with black tights ever) , a gold quilted purse, and yellow sunglasses. Do that, and you run the risk of having someone in a denim vest out-classing you.

Hel Looks: Fanny Pack Attack

I remember, in eighth grade, circa maybe '97, my friend and I had a portentous discussion about fashion whilst sitting on the schoolyard.
"Do you realize that everything comes back in fashion?"
"So the 80's are going to come back." [Note: This seemed so impossible at the time that I didn't quite believe it.]
"Like acid wash!"
"And those sweaters with geometric designs on them!"
Then we just sat there in horror, thinking about it, even though we were probably both wearing huge jeans and ringer t-shirts and ball chain necklaces.

The thing about certain clothing coming back in style is that it's not going to happen on its own. Batwing blouses don't come creeping out of thrift stores to land, blousily, upon the backs of hipsters. No, people choose to embrace these clothing, picking out acid wash denim tunics and multicolored nylon windbreakers as if they were ripe fruit. Emilia, 28, then, is certainly old enough to remember the 80s with the same horror, but instead of learning from these mistakes, she has embraced them, accessorizing her baggy tunic with something I have unfortunately had to make a new label for: the fanny pack.

What's really sad is that the '90's are are already coming back, so don't be surprised if the hipsters of tomorrow are sitting around in wide-leg jeans and baby ringer tees, talking about how they admire the style of Bush's Gavin Rossdale and talking about, I don't know, the Lemonheads or something.